


hot just like an oven

by glitteratiglue



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Steve and Bucky have a baby together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 02:05:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6176041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Buck,” Steve huffs, trying to ignore the pleased shiver crawling up his spine. “I’ve got stuff to do.”</p><p>“So have I,” Bucky says, a grin sliding onto his face. “You.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	hot just like an oven

**Author's Note:**

> I made a [tumblr post](http://glitteratiglue.tumblr.com/post/140046052765/just-unearthed-a-piece-of-paper-in-my-bag-on-which), interest was expressed and then this happened. Originally there was plot, but it ended up basically just being laundry room sex. I'm okay with that.
> 
> [N, you know what you did. This is all your fault.]

Steve had never thought he’d be a parent. All those years ago, he’d hoped for a family with Peggy, but ice and time had stolen those dreams from him, and he’d learned to let them go.

Until tragedy struck one day when the Avengers were out on a mission. One of Dr Doom’s experimental weapons collapsed a house, leaving a newborn baby girl orphaned.

Bucky had been the one who suggested keeping her, much to the surprise of everyone else. Steve had hesitated, unsure whether he and Bucky were ready to take on the responsibility of a child, but Bucky had been sure. In the end, Steve couldn’t help but be inspired by his confidence, and so he'd agreed to it. They named the baby after Steve’s mother and brought her home the same day. Pepper’s still handling the adoption process; it hasn’t been a smooth road, but Steve is optimistic that things will work out in a way he didn't used to be.

Balancing parenthood with being an Avenger isn't easy, but most of the time, they manage it (they only get called up for missions if the whole team's required, and have an excellent and discreet babysitter on standby just in case the world needs saving).

Sarah is now six months old and thriving. 

Steve’s just got her down for a nap and is in the laundry room sorting clean clothes when Bucky comes in.

“You look like shit,” Bucky says, and it’s not far from the truth. Sarah’s been teething, and neither of them have gotten much sleep in the past week.

“Right back atcha,” Steve replies, not looking up — he’s too focused on efficiently folding the pile of tiny onesies in front of him. The one he’s holding is patterned with giraffes; Sarah puked on it yesterday, and the stain hasn’t quite come out. He sighs and puts it back on the dirty laundry pile.

There’s movement behind him, then the heat of Bucky’s breath ghosting over his ear. “Hey,” Bucky says, playful, but Steve can tell what his intentions are when Bucky presses right up against him, obviously hard.

“Buck,” Steve huffs, trying to ignore the pleased shiver crawling up his spine. He really _is_ busy. “I’ve got stuff to do.” He turns around, leaning back against the washing machine.

“So have I,” Bucky says, a grin sliding onto his face. “You.”

Steve wants to squirm under Bucky’s blatantly appraising gaze. He’s going red—he’s always been a full-body blusher, a fact Bucky takes full advantage of—and his dick is definitely interested, starting to swell against his thigh.

“I just got Sarah to sleep,” Steve says, his mind working, and he can see Bucky’s already there.

“Then we've got at least twenty minutes,” Bucky surmises, and he gets right down to it, kissing Steve until they’re both breathing heavily, one of his denim-clad thighs moving forward so he can grind against him.

Steve lets his legs fall open shamelessly. It feels like there’s fire under his skin every time Bucky moves his hips, slow and dirty, the friction on his cock unbearably good. He reaches up to tug at Bucky’s hair, then slides his hands down to slip under his t-shirt. Bucky’s so warm, his skin burning hot, and Steve just wants to touch him all over. For various reasons—mostly baby-related—it’s been a couple of weeks since he’s had Bucky, and that’s far too long.

“We _could_ do this in the bedroom,” Steve says, face breaking into a smile though he’s trying to sound serious. “Might be more comfortable.”

“We could, but c’mon, I’m a parent now,” Bucky says, grinning as his hand slips lower, massaging Steve’s rapidly-hardening cock through his jeans. “I spend more time on home improvement than Avenging, these days. Maybe I just wanna feel a little bit dangerous for a while.”

“Fucking in the laundry room isn’t exactly dangerous,” Steve points out, trying to keep his voice deadpan, but he’s laughing already, swept away on Bucky’s good mood.

Bucky shrugs. “I take what I can get.”

Though Steve’s hard now, and breathing heavily, he manages to remember the laundry. “Wait, I gotta put the machine on,” he says, ragged, reaching past Bucky’s hip to flick the dial on.

“What did I do to get you, eh?” Bucky tells him. “You do the housework, you cook — some’d say I’m a pretty lucky guy.”

“You are, huh?” Steve murmurs. He pulls Bucky close, feeling giddy with need and the pent-up frustration of two weeks of nothing but jerking off in the shower. “I guess I'm pretty lucky, too,” he says, very soft. “I couldn’t do it without you, Buck — Sarah, any of it. You’re an amazing father, for what it’s worth.”

Bucky smiles, and Steve takes a second to just look at him. His hair’s a tangled mess, there’s a baby spit-up stain on his t-shirt, and he’s got the same dark circles under his eyes as Steve, but all Steve he can think about is how much he wants him, how much he loves their life together. It’s nothing like what he’d ever imagined, but better than anything he could have ever hoped for.

“You, too,” Bucky says, gruff though he’s clearly happy about the compliment, “you damn sap. C’mere.” He goes back to kissing him, and Steve forgets everything else. He reaches for the waistband of Bucky’s jeans, conscious of the fact they probably don’t have much time.

But Bucky’s in a teasing mood today. He bats Steve’s hand away, saying, “He sounds alright, this guy of yours.”

Steve lifts an eyebrow, pretending to consider. “Well, he’s not so bad. He can’t cook worth a damn, but if you want something fixed, he’s your man.” He isn’t sure what he’s saying anymore, drunk on want and the way Bucky’s looking at him: dirty as sin but still impossibly sweet and tender.

“I was always good with my hands,” Bucky drawls before dragging Steve back into a ferocious kiss, teeth sinking into his upper lip while he grabs at his back, his hips, his ass. They fumble in the small space, shoving at each other, unbuttoning jeans and pushing their underwear down their hips.

“C’mon, I want you,” Steve murmurs. He runs his hands over Bucky’s pecs, dips his head forward to scrape teeth over his nipple, just the way Bucky likes it. He’s rewarded with a strangled noise, and then Bucky’s pulling away, bending awkwardly to retrieve a small bottle of lube from his jeans pocket.

Talk about a strategic attack: Bucky planned this. Steve smiles at the thought of Bucky stopping off in the bedroom to pocket the lube, then heading over here with the intention of fucking him senseless. He shouldn't have expected anything less; Bucky's usually one step ahead of him, especially when it comes to sex.

“Like all good boy scouts, I come prepared,” Bucky says with a self-satisfied grin.

Steve can’t help but laugh because, _God,_ Bucky’s ridiculous. “You’ve been saving that line up for a while, haven’t you? Dunno why I put up with you.”

“I could give you a few reasons,” Bucky says, and in revenge, reaches straight for Steve’s cock with the metal hand and starts to jerk him hard and fast. Steve’s brain shorts out; his knees feel like they’re about to buckle, but Bucky just keeps on going, his grip sure and unwavering.

“Buck,” he moans. “You keep that up, I’m gonna —”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky concedes, and lets go of him. He seizes the opportunity to give Steve’s ass a squeeze, and it makes Steve whine, embarrassingly loud. He gets his hands on Bucky’s hips, thumbs pressing into the soft grooves there, tight enough to bruise, and the soft sound Bucky makes in his throat is enough to drive him crazy.

Steve’s near-delirious with wanting him now. “Get the fuck on it with it, Barnes,” he snaps, enjoying the way Bucky’s eyes flash. “Otherwise you can watch while I jerk off.”

“Sounds good to me,” Bucky says coolly, calling his bluff. He shoves up a hand up Steve's t-shirt, spreads out his palm on his chest to drag short nails down over his sternum, sharp and mean enough to make it hurt. Steve’s breathing goes shallow, but he doesn’t lose his composure (that is, whatever composure he’s got left with his pants swimming around his ankles).

Steve can't wait any longer. He grunts impatiently and shoves Bucky’s hand away, reaching for the lube so he can get some on his palm.

“So fucking needy, aren’t you?” Bucky laughs softly, and leans in to kiss at Steve’s ear, bite at his neck while he runs his hands all over him. “Easy, that’s what you are, Rogers.”

“Maybe,” Steve mumbles, gasping in relief as he reaches down to get himself ready. There’s no point in denying it; he _is_ easy for Bucky, always has been. In the war, quiet moments together were hard to come by, and they’d always made the most of them. Steve remembers barely managing to get the Captain America uniform unfastened before Bucky was on him— _in_ him—greedily touching and kissing the new body Steve still hadn't quite gotten used to.

“There ain't no maybe about it.” Bucky digs his metal fingers into the meat of Steve’s ass—Steve moans then, high and needy, not even ashamed—and kneads at it, squeezing. “Bet you’d let me have you anywhere. On the floor. Right up against the kitchen counter. Maybe against the new French doors on the balcony, everyone watching you get nailed. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“ _Buck_ ,” slips out of Steve’s mouth before he can stop it. He’s busy getting himself wet and open for Bucky, but he shoots him a murderous look for good measure. Of course, that just makes Bucky grin like an idiot and kiss him, and, well — Steve’s never going to complain about that.

“You’re gonna kill me, Rogers,” Bucky says fondly when he pulls back. “That sexy little ass of yours, Jesus. I dunno how I ever get anything done with you around.”

Steve’s red to the tips of his ears, but he loves it when Bucky talks this way, and Bucky knows it. “I need you, Bucky, c’mon,” he says breathlessly. He’s begging now, bearing down desperately on the fingers he’s got inside himself.

"I know, Steve." Bucky smiles, maddeningly calm. "I know."

Heat rises on Steve's skin as he watches Bucky wrap a tight fist around his own dick, mouth going taut with pleasure as he slicks himself up. Bucky’s taking his sweet time about it, his eyes watching Steve the whole time, hungry and wide.

“It’s been a while,” Bucky cautions, ostensibly concerned, but his eyes are dancing. He loves to tease, and Steve knows it. Maybe becoming parents has put a bit of a dampener on their sex life, but it’s not as if they hadn’t spent their previous months together fucking six ways from Sunday. Point is, it doesn’t take much for Steve to be ready these days, but Bucky’s a son of a bitch who likes to drag it out.

“Don’t care,” Steve insists. “Wanna feel you for the rest of the day.”

“You got it,” Bucky breathes hot in his ear, and a shiver ghosts up Steve’s spine. _Hell yeah_ , he wants that.

Suddenly, Bucky grabs Steve’s wrists and turns him around, crowding him against the washing machine while he lines himself up. Steve braces both hands on the smooth, white surface and leans forward, huffing out sharp, anticipatory breaths as he waits.

Bucky splays the metal hand out on his hip—it’s warm from touching himself, and that makes Steve moan a little—and sinks into him in one thrust, easy as anything.

“Oh, _yeah,_ ” bursts out of Steve before he can stop it, because it’s so good, he needed this: Bucky in him, wet and deep, giving it to him rough as he likes, because he knows Steve can take it.

Bucky’s shuddering against him, and he mutters, “Fuck, so good, that’s it, you’re so good for me, Steve,” in his ear as he rolls his hips, keeping it slow.

The machine rumbles as it starts to spin, the vibration shaking Steve, making it hard to hold on as Bucky fucks into him hard.

It makes Bucky laugh, throws his rhythm off for a second.

“What?” Steve says, slightly irritated that Bucky’s stopped. He’s shaking, the muscles in his arms tensing where he’s gripping the appliance.

“If you could see yourself now,” Bucky says, moving his flesh hand up to grab at Steve’s pecs, “pretty as a picture. A sweaty, dirty mess, and _I_ got you that way.” The breath’s knocked from Steve as Bucky curls metal fingers around his hip and drives in deeper.

“Yeah, Buck. Just like that. Yeah, _yeah,_ ” Steve chokes out, lost in how good it feels. And he can’t help it—maybe it’s Bucky’s words, or just how incredible this feels—he spreads his thighs wider, bends his knees as much as he can when his jeans are still around his ankles. Offers himself up to Bucky, utterly shameless.

Steve’s moaning now—trying to keep quiet, dimly aware that they shouldn’t make too much noise—and his cock’s throbbing where it brushes against the machine with each punishing thrust. Bucky starts really giving it to him, making these broken little sounds into Steve’s neck as he presses in closer, like he can’t get enough.

“Feels good, huh?” Bucky murmurs, his breathing shallow in Steve’s ear, moving faster.

“Yeah,” Steve pants, trying to hang on as he gets shoved forward by the force of Bucky’s thrusts, the washing machine’s spin cycle still going all the while. “The best. You feel so fucking good, Bucky, inside me like this.”

“Know what you like, don’t I?” Bucky says, panting in between the words. “I can fuck you ‘til you’re a wreck, ‘til you’re screaming my name. And then you’ll let me do it all over again.” He strokes his hands up and down Steve’s sides, grabbing at his skin, getting rough about it. “There's nobody else who knows you like I do, Steve. Nobody.”

“Wouldn’t want anyone else,” Steve says, voice low. “Not the way I want you, anyway. You make me fuckin' crazy, Buck. Please — oh —" He breaks off when Bucky starts pinching at one of his nipples, rolling it between his flesh fingers, keeping him at the sharp edge where pain meets mind-bending pleasure.

“Imagine if the others could see you like this,” Bucky breathes, and though Steve’s kind of ashamed, he moans at the idea. “The Avengers, watching Captain America get it good. Because I do you good, don’t I, Steve? Just the way you like it.”

“Yeah, Bucky,” Steve manages. “Oh, yeah —”

Bucky gets the metal hand in Steve’s hair and yanks, pulling his head back so he can lean in to bite at his jaw, his exposed throat. “C’mon,” he growls, slows his pace so he’s fucking into Steve steadily. “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t love it. Everyone watching me pound your star-spangled ass.”

Bucky’s on the verge of laughing as he says it, Steve can hear it, but he keeps on running his mouth just the same, like he can’t help himself. “You’d want them to see, wouldn’t you?” His voice softens, and he lets go of Steve's hair.

“Yeah,” Steve admits, his voice fading into a moan, too far gone to be embarrassed anymore. “I bet they’d be jealous from watching what you do to me. But I wouldn’t let them have you. At least not ‘til I’d had my turn a few times.” He’s only half-aware of what he’s saying at this point.

Steve’s blushing all over now, sweaty and flushed, palms slipping as he tries to hold on. Bucky’s got him pressed so close to the washing machine it’s hard to reach, but Steve wriggles a bit and manages to get a hand around his cock. He strokes himself firmly, now entirely focused on getting off. His stomach’s going taut, every nerve in his body screaming-tense, but it feels so good he almost doesn’t want it to end.

“Mmm, I like you jealous,” Bucky says, “but you haven't gotta worry. It’s only you, Steve. Always you. I fucking love you so much, _God_ , you've got no idea what you do to me. Was thinking about it this all morning, wondering when I was gonna get you alone and —” His voice cracks, the rhythm of his hips stuttering.

Steve knows Bucky’s almost there, and he wants it, needs Bucky to come for him. “C’mon, Bucky, give it to me,” he pants, roughly pushing up into his own fist. “Come inside me. I want it, c’mon.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky gasps, breathy and soft, “you’re gonna feel me all day,” and then he’s biting down on the muscle of Steve’s shoulder, hips jerking while he comes, burying himself in him as deep as he can go. Bucky makes these tiny sounds into Steve’s skin and Steve’s head falls forward, his eyes squeezing shut. He's lost in the feeling of Bucky inside him, wet and hot, pulsing as he fills him up with his come.

“Buck, Buck, _Buck,”_ Steve moans helplessly, and then he comes too, all over his hand and the still-going washing machine, feeling like he’s being pulled out of himself, legs shaking. Bucky’s wrung out by now, but he fucks him through it anyway, dragging out the orgasm until Steve whimpers, “You’re gonna kill me, I swear.”

“What a way to go, though,” Bucky remarks hoarsely. He’s plastered to Steve's back, a languid, heavy weight on top of him.

Steve sighs happily, bone-deep satisfied from head to toe. His legs are barely holding him up, and when Bucky slips out of him with a reluctant sigh, he lets go of the washing machine—he doesn’t dare look at the mess he’s made on the glass door—and sits down heavily on the floor.

A little unsteadily, Bucky slumps down beside him. He’s bright-eyed, relaxed and so happy like this; he looks way too good for someone who’s just had sex. Conversely, Steve knows he’s an utter mess: flushed all down to his belly, come trailing down the inside of his thighs, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Still, he knows Bucky likes him this way, and he can’t bring himself to care.

Bucky leans back on his elbows and looks at Steve. “Never knew you were such an exhibitionist, Rogers.”

Steve clears his throat pointedly. “I’m not the one who suggested fucking against the French doors for all the neighbours to see. You’re filthy, Barnes.”

Bucky laughs. “Just the way you like me.”

“Yeah,” Steve concedes. He presses a grin into Bucky's mouth. “I do.”

Right on cue, the baby starts crying.

“She’s got impeccable timing, that kid,” Bucky says. “I’ll say that for her.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, smiling. He should get up, but he’s still weak and hazy; he’s amazed he can move at all.

“I’ll go,” Bucky offers. He gets to his feet, pulling up his jeans and has them buttoned in a matter of seconds. He’s smirking when he moves to the sink to wash his hands. “You won’t be much good for anything for a while. Think I should fuck you stupid more often.”

“That a promise?”

“You bet,” Bucky calls over his shoulder as he heads out of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Marvin Gaye's _Sexual Healing_ (it had to be done).
> 
> [Bonus scene](http://glitteratiglue.tumblr.com/post/140569051085/bonus-entirely-sfw-scene-from-my-steve-and-bucky) on my tumblr of Steve and Bucky being adorable dads to Sarah that didn't fit anywhere in the main fic.


End file.
